


Anniversary

by mysticmajestic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Old Age, Old Married Couple, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmajestic/pseuds/mysticmajestic
Summary: A little thing like Alzheimer's Disease won't stop Shiro from buying Lance, the love of his life, a bouquet of roses on their anniversary.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit:** I didn't notice that I had messed up their anniversary dates, so I've corrected those.

When Lance woke up that morning, it was to an empty bed.

This, in itself, was not unusual; Shiro liked to get up and wander around for a little while, then wander his way back into bed, but these days he was loud. He made noise. The bedroom, the house, was quiet. Something was off.

“Shiro?” Lance called, kicking off the blankets and standing. He grabbed his walking stick, using it to heft himself upright. “Shiro, are you there?”

Cursing his bad knees, he hobbled out of the bedroom as fast as he could. Checked the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, with increasing amounts of panic. Shiro was nowhere to be found.

He hurriedly called Libbie, their daughter.

“Dad?” she yawned. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Libbie, your Papa’s missing,” says Lance. “I can’t find him anywhere in the house.”

“What?” she yelped. Lance heard her scrambling up, heard the sleepy protest from Daniel, her husband. “What do you mean he’s _missing_?”

“I—I woke up and he wasn’t there. I checked all over the house but I can’t find him. Libbie, you know how bad his Alzheimer’s has gotten recently. Can you please drive around and see if you can find him? If not, I’ll have to call the police.”

“Daniel, Daniel wake up, my Papa’s missing,” Libbie said. Then she added, “Of course, Dad. Daniel’s going to take his work car and we’ll both drive over town and look for him. Go and sit down, okay? You’ll hurt your bad knees even further.”

Lance almost snapped at her that he didn’t care about his bad knee, for Christ’s sake, but ultimately, he knew that she was right. At seventy-three, his arthritis had gotten bad enough that it was difficult to move around. In fact, he’d been discussing with Libbie for months about getting adequate, in-home care for Shiro, who had developed Alzheimer’s two years ago at seventy-eight and was just starting to reach the stage where Lance could not take care of him himself.

If it wasn’t for the Alzheimer’s, Shiro would have been in great physical condition still. Age had sunk its claws into his mind, but it hadn’t really affected him physically. Not like it had with Lance. Shiro had quit jogging at seventy-five, no joke, and had taken up getting his daily exercise in on the stationary bike they’d gotten rid of last year when Shiro had tripped over it and broken his wrist.

“Okay,” said Lance, carefully making his way back to the sofa and levering himself down on it. “Please let me know when you find him.”

“Of course,” said Libbie. “Try not to stress yourself out too much. I’m sure he hasn’t gone far.”

“I can only hope.”

*

An hour had passed, but still no sign of Shiro. No word from Libbie or Daniel. Lance was officially _worried_. Having turned on the television for background noise, Lance stared sightlessly at the morning news program. Didn’t hear a word of it. He was waiting to hear the rattle of keys, footsteps on the porch. _Something_.

It wasn’t like Shiro to just run off like this. He usually woke Lance up to tell him where he was going, or if he wanted to go out so that Lance could call Libbie to accompany him. Was he really getting so bad that Lance could not take care of him anymore? Dios, how has it come to this so quickly? The diagnosis two years ago had been devastating, just as the symptoms Shiro had been showing were alarming. But when the doctor had said that this disease could progress slowly in some, Lance had hoped Shiro would be one of those lucky ones.

Maybe not.

He and Shiro had been together for fifty-three years, married for forty-nine. They did everything together. They rode out all the trials and tribulations of life and their relationship and came out stronger for it. He couldn’t believe that it was Alzheimer’s Disease that would take it all away from him.

What was he going to do when Shiro couldn’t remember him anymore? He got angry sometimes because he was forgetful. Snapped a lot, but that was normal. Asked a question three times before the answer stuck in his brain. Recently, he’d been putting on his shirts inside out and his pants back to front. Left shoe on the right foot, right shoe on the left. And Lance would chuckle and correct him, make Shiro laugh to forget his frustration. Would they lose that too?

 _Stop it,_ he told himself sharply, giving his thigh a little smack. _You’re only upsetting yourself. He’s fine. He probably thought he was younger and went for a walk or something. Libbie will find him and bring him home, you’ll make him his favourite tea to warm him up, and we’ll all laugh about this later._

He just wanted Shiro home.

 

* * *

 

What felt like hours later but in reality was only half an hour, Lance perked up to the sound of footsteps on the porch. One set. Seizing his cane, he carefully yet quickly got off the lounge and hobbled to the door. It opened before he got there.

“Shiro!” he gasped, relieved. His husband stood there, grinning from ear to ear, completely unharmed. “Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

From behind his back, Shiro pulled out a bouquet of roses. “Happy anniversary!”

“I—wh-what?” Their anniversary was next month. But if this was the only time Shiro would remember their wedding anniversary, then he’ll take it. There was nothing wrong with celebrating a month early. “Oh, Shiro, they’re beautiful!”

He accepted the flowers, sniffed them, then leaned up to kiss Shiro’s rosy cheek. He was pleased as punch, hands clasped behind his back, rocking up on his toes with an almost childish glee about him. Oh Dios, Lance loved this man so much.

Every year on their anniversary, Shiro would leave the bed early and walk to the flower shop on the other side of town where he’d bought Lance a bouquet of roses on their first ever date. They had married on the same date a few years later, and Shiro had kept up the tradition.

“Thank you, baby,” said Lance. “These are absolutely divine.”

Next to the kitchen there was a little wooden table they kept pressed to the wall, below the circular mirror they had surrounded by important family pictures, where Lance kept their little knick-knacks—but more importantly the little blue vase with a heart in the middle that was specifically meant for the anniversary flowers.

Like he always did, Shiro went and got a glass of water to fill the vase with. Lance was overwhelmed by how much Shiro was remembering, brought almost to tears as Shiro beckoned for Lance to put the flowers in. He did so, unable to resist kissing Shiro again.

“I am so lucky to have you,” said Shiro, staring at Lance with all the lucidity he’d had before his diagnosis. “You do so much for me.” His lower lib wobbled, eyes turning glassy from unshed tears. “I know I’m a little bit too much to handle right now—”

“No, Shiro, not at all,” Lance denied, firm. He took one of Shiro’s trembling hands. “You are not too much to handle. I love you. You mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, my starshine.” Shiro leaned forward, pressing his lips to Lance’s.

A little sob bursts from Lance’s lips. Dios, how long has it been since Shiro called him starshine? Too long. Lance hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until this moment.

“Come and sit down,” said Lance, leading Shiro slowly to the lounge. “I’ll make you your favourite tea. What do you want to eat?”

“Do we have any pancakes?”

“No, but I can make you some.” Grabbing the throw from the back of the lounge, Lance it around Shiro to keep him warm. He got cold easily these days, and at his age he couldn’t afford to get sick. “Let me call Libbie first.”

“Invite her over?” asked Shiro. “We can have our anniversary dinner together.”

Lance grinned. “Of course.”

Libbie was so relieved to hear that Shiro was okay, but she too cried a little when Lance told her that Shiro believed it was their anniversary.

“I’ll bring food over for dinner,” she said. “We’ll make sure this is the best anniversary dinner he’s ever had.” _Because it may just be the last one he’ll ever remember_ goes unspoken. “I’ll come around in the afternoon, okay? Just enjoy your time with him, Daddy.” She sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Let me put you on speaker so you can tell that to your Papa.”

“Okay.”

“Shiro, Libbie wants to speak to you.” Lance held out the phone but didn’t let Shiro take it; sometimes he hung up without meaning to these days. “You’re on speaker, Libs.”

“Papa, can you hear me?”

Shiro grinned. “I hear you, sweet pea.”

She laugh-sobbed. “I love you so much, okay? You’re the best Papa in the world. Have a great anniversary with Dad, and I’ll see you later tonight!”

“I love you too, sweet pea, see you then.”

Turning speaker off and putting the phone back to his ear, Lance exchanged hurried yet loving goodbyes with Libbie, then disconnected the call.

He beamed at Shiro. “So how about those pancakes?”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that old news story about the man with Alzheimer's getting up one day and walking across town to get flowers for his wife. 
> 
> This one was a little bittersweet to write, as I was a carer for my Nanna-Mum who had dementia. I remember how glorious her lucid moments were. Sadly, she lost her battle seven months ago, aged 80.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


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